me thinks too much

i always thought i'd marry young. . .not that my present age is old, but i think i remember believing i would be married by now. . .don't get me wrong- i'm not disappointed at my current singleness- i'm appreciating it.
in part, i think because i saw marriage as the end all- as that place, that reward, for those people. . .all those people who are enough. . .pretty enough, smart enough, witty enough. . .i saw it as this high place, reserved only for those fortunate enough to be found and chosen.
also, i think i was afraid. afraid of my 'otherness'- or at least unaware of its existence. it's a scary thought when unfamiliar with yourself, your dreams (outside of being discovered), your fears, your successes- future and past. . .it's a frightening thing when the blinders are taken off for the first time and you realize that you had such a limited view of your reality. and it sometimes can be a scary thing to think of going it alone in this world.
this journey of mine, this perpetual search for my otherness, so i am able and ready to contribute to a healthy relationship, has taken many twists and turns, has come to a screeching halt, and has also & most importantly taken me blissfully down this road of life- happy for the adventure, hopeful for my other and always thankful for God's grace.
i'm becoming more my own each day. . .no longer quick to judge, more comfortable with what i believe, what i am willing to give up, with the power of my choices, the sound of my voice and laugh, the direction i'm heading, who i am serving, who i have left behind, who has left me behind, and who i am becoming. comfortable to make mistakes and take the time to learn from them because they're mine. there is risk and adventure to be had in forging our own way, choosing our interests, beliefs, pursuits and living our credo. not independent of God. . .but independent of the familiar- of what we grew up with, truly look at ourselves, take responsibility for who we are and move on from that point. . .
i am learning to be content. . .to have a deepened understanding that i am who i am. i am changing, being changed, unlike anyone else and therefore at a different place than anyone else. it's comforting to know that i won't leave this place unchanged. . .
i'm at a peaceful place. . .learning my worth is not determined by what others say or what i do- but by God's decree. my security is because of and in Him alone. i'm coming to terms with the departure of my past, throwing off my old self, assuming a new position in life and arriving at a state of grace.
grace for others. . .and for me.

profound

so this thought occurred to me and it rocked my world. . .
i like to help people. i like to help people i don't particularly like. and i don't know why, but i do. so i offered my assistance to this person i enjoy. and well, he took it because he needed help. almost immediately after the deed was done, i became particularly cynical regarding my assistance, because i find that i have a tendency to offer too much in order, i guess, to make myself indispensable and attractive to others. well, i became cynical because i figured this frelationship would end just like the others. . .and i got kind of bitter, saying to myself, "people only want what i can offer and are not very interested in who i am. they ask for what i can do for them and don't ask for my heart- which is really what i'm trying to market" and it was about that time that God interceded and kindly pointed out, that's what i do to Him.
ouch. but a sweet ouch.
i want to change. i don't want to be solely interested in what God offers me- life, grace, freedom, love, mercy, peace, joy, strength. . .- but i want Him. His heart, His vision, His purpose for me. . .i want Him.

Why?

Why do we say the things we do? Why is it that when you share a story with another, something about your past, existence, dreams. . .it feels as though something is lost? It’s almost as if it’s no longer yours. . .it’s a shared experience.

I used to share all my stories, well most, up front in hopes that someone would see through the veneer and stick around to find out who I was. And then, I decided to try and not spill my guts, but rather to wait and see if they merit the information given. I prefer the latter. . .but it ups the ante for me now. If I tell something that previously I would have told almost anyone, but is now remaining a secret for those special few that are actually able to breach the walls I’ve so cleverly (and recently) put in place, it becomes very intimate.

Why?

I feel embarrassed now when I didn't before. Maybe that I showed a bit much of myself with the emotion- I guess the stoic capability of telling my pain was lost when I decided it wasn’t public information.

thinking. . .intensely. . .

yes, obsession. . .that is the topic today.
i find myself obsessed, er thinking intensely, about a weekend-long event that took place a over month ago with a person i barely know. it's ridiculous, to say the least and shouldn't even be on my radar, but alas, it is and i find myself thrust into this sick cycle of mental acrobatics trying to piece it all together.
and the truly sick thing about it? is that i think there is some way that i can influence the current situation. . .and apparently by beating it to death, my ever hopeful self thinks something will happen. i don't ever feel like i've fully explained myself and i don't think it's clear how much it truly doesn't matter to me. . .i could go either way in this situation- with or without it and i feel like i can't make that clear! but in the end, all my antics and attempts to explain away just how truly unimportant this event was, i give it value. and i look like a fool. ugh.
enough said. over it. and done.

intimacy

it's a scary word, isn't it?
what is it about intimacy that we shy away from? is it the vulnerability? the possibility of rejection? the chance of running out of things to say and not having any new growth? is it scary because we don't even know what it means?
everyone has an intrinsic need for intimacy. for as frightening as it may be to admit. . .i believe everyone wants to be known. to be truly known, inside and out, and still be loved.
so we play our games, get to know people, let a few people in and inevitably we get hurt because trying to place boundaries on a concept is tricky. sometimes we take the risk and let someone in further. . .for some it works out, for others still it doesn't and they have the chance at starting at 'go' once again.
there is something so attractive about people who are intimate- genuinely intimate. . .nothing shallow or conniving about it. . .someone who is just really open to the possibilities that are created when previous strangers get together and have deep conversations.

rambling vomit. . .

perhaps it's the fear of success that keeps us from pursuing those dreams. . .it's what makes us shelve the ideas in hopes the passion would die down, or at least taper off in our older age so that we are able to redirect it and create another dream- a more tame and manageable one. . .one that we are pretty confident we would succeed in. . .but is that any way to live? in a world where safety is becoming less and less of a sure thing, it seems like the paths of our lives, the dreams we decide to pursue, are becoming routine and mundane. excitement is left for those in the spotlight. . .the public lives vicariously through them.
we live in a culture that is numbing at best. we have babies having babies. celebrities influencing our morality. pundits pushing their agendas. expletives are used as every part of speech. education has been replaced by entertainment; faith by religion. we've confused wisdom with knowledge. Truth has been thrown by the wayside.
somehow, i think in our age of convenience we've pushed out the good in life and filled the void with more useless and trivial experiences. we are teaching the next generation to settle for the 'here and now' without a vision for what their life could be, and without hope. we live as though our temporary wishes and wants should be focused on and enhanced, as though by doing that we are truly living.
it seems like the things that are lasting and the things that would radically alter our lives and ourselves are what we actually avoid. those desires lay dormant, still needing to be realized, and in our own ways, we go about to fill them in mindless, reckless and numbing activities.
so perhaps it's the fear of succeeding, of pushing ourselves, of finding out what we are really made of and what we were really called to do that keeps us from even trying. we are content to dream about such things but incapable of seeing it to fruition.
we are fooled into believing that if we stay within the safety of our faculties, we will be happy. . .so we leave the dreaming for children and continue to conduct our lives in our false sense of created security.
is it the fear that if we do unleash our dreams and feed them and nurture them and pursue them. . .is it the power in the success that is scary? and not power in a domineering kind of way. . .but in a quiet strength. . .the resolve and stubbornness that we can follow through with something. . .is it the perceived responsibility of the next challenge we take on should have the same results as the previous one? everyone has to fail at some point. . .so if we succeed in attaining what we were made to do/be. . .does it up the ante for the next dream? dreaming is risky. . .but actually intentionally living out those dreams can be fatal. . .maybe it's just not worth the risk?
all this rambling still leaves my question unanswered though. . .so is it the fear of success, the fear of failure, the fear of dreaming, the fear of ridicule, the fear of responsibility. . .it's the fear of something, this i know. . .maybe knowing that is good enough for now. . .